Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

Did You See What They Did to Her Breasts?

I'm gonna say it and someone's gonna raise a fuss:
but what's wrong with pretty?
What's wrong with something and it's superficial value?
What's wrong with taking care of yourself?
What's wrong with wanting to be presentable?

Is it because of all the terrible things people have done to attain it?
Why must someone be destroying themselves to be it?
Why must someone have paid for something augmented if they're in the spotlight?

Sure it's all image
and it's all manipulatable
but a talent like any other
it's a skill learned with time.

Pygmalion
and My Fair Lady.
Which is prettier?
And which do you know better?

-Matthew Koutzun

Busy

Busy

I'm busy on the phone again,
it cutting in and out
and me thinking in and out
during its short breaks
about all the things I need to do.

I have that big thing
and that little thing
and not to mention
all the little things
I want to keep doing.

Oh, something is going to give
and if it's not one thing
it'll be something small
from all of them
and everyone is bound to be pissed off then.

But I'm giving more of myself
and time is growing shorter
so why am I here then
writing poems
as if the list were getting smaller.

-Matthew Koutzun

Technicality

Technicality

We both could be right,
and then you had to be a bitch about it.

-Matthew Koutzun

This is what my Thirst feels like

This is what my Thirst feels like

Filling up glasses again
up and over the brim.
water cracking over crevasse
and quickly chasing down.

Splish and patter on the table
I'm going overboard,
again with ambition
withholding everything while reaching for more.

One of these days I'll take a drink.
And finally be refreshed.

-Matthew Koutzun

Broken Sonata from where I Stand

Broken Sonata from where I Stand

Does it seem odd to me?
Well,
why don't I ask you?
Does it seem odd to you?

I'm looking at this
from both directions
and I see your point,
but what I'm feeling can't be changed.

Yeah, I get where you're coming from
and you'd never do it yourself
but here I am
in the throws of it

and surprisingly
it's quite easy.

-Matthew Koutzun

As Good as it Gets

As Good as it Gets

In the bed
laying
clothes on the floor
the night around us
and light from buildings
darting through half shut blinds
etching
and highlighting our features as we laid there.

I was tired of everything we did.
Tired of the monotony of loving you.

I love you.
You know that.
But what I mean now...
then...
loving you was so hard
when you wouldn't give me what I wanted.

How could I love you lying passively beside me?
Don't you know me?
Me: sprawled out on my side
my back to you
knees shifting on one another
gently lifting my ass
and sighing lightly
breathing out seductively
hoping for some aggressive attention
hoping I'm worth the action.

I always wondered when there was the point
when one just gives in
and the pain takes on dull pleasure.

But pleasure never comes,

only screaming and fighting

screaming and fighting

screaming
and
fighting.

Annoyed I grab my clothes from the floor
even bending over to give you one last chance.
You ask if I'm alright
and I say yes, and even kiss you on the lips before I leave-
pulling my arms through the sleeves
as I walk placidly through the hallways.

I climb down the flights of stairs wondering what time it really is
I should have checked the clock.
The nights much darker from the late winter
but the snow has left the ground and a heavy jacket
and hands in pockets are enough to keep me warm
as I leave the front of your apartment
and walk the streets back home.

I'm lost in the headphones I've put on
to drown out the disappointments I saw in you
and I don't remember when it was
when I was finally dragged onto the ground
after being punched in the back.

But my pants are off,
well around my ankles
and I'm struggling with keeping the rest on.
Kicking whole heartedly in constricted attempts
and hearing small tears that won't rip me free.

And I'm punched again
as I claw
and as other things are inserted
pain rippling through inside
and inside
and inside
and inside
and inside
deeper
and out

and we still struggle
both attacking
and one loving-
not I.

I always wondered when there was the point
when one just gives in
and the pain takes on dull pleasure.

But pleasure never comes,

only screaming and fighting

screaming and fighting

screaming
and
fighting.

Oh dear Lord:
this is as good as it gets.

-Matthew Koutzun

I'll Get Down One Day

I'll Get Down One Day

Awoken
the sky out my 2nd floor window
was the most peculiar shade of blue.
It was actually purple masked by fog
and it eerie-d its way into me
tempting me to believe perhaps the world was ending.

So i prayed to God that moment
drowsy and tired and fell back to sleep
but I-

I had doubt whether I was doing everything in his favor
and doubt whether I should do favor to everything for him.

I'm a freewill baby
with religious dependencies.

And I don't know where this is going because soon after I dreamed more of being on a spaceship with those I care for, and continually living in the great unknown, living like I do today, searching streets and opportunities- like stars.

-Matthew Koutzun

You're so Vain / You probably think this poem is about you.

You're so Vain,
You probably think this poem is about you.

Oh, you're so vain.
You probably think those poems were about you.
But trust me,
there are others out there like you.
Doing the same things
in a different time.

If the universe is forever
then endless space
and endless time
means endless possibilities.

But forget all that,
remember-
this poem isn't about you.
You're so vain.

-Matthew Koutzun

She steps on Eyeglasses

She Steps on Eyeglasses

Criss- crunch

and on the bunch

she tore each frame from the wall

and stepped on the glass.

Rose
and teal
and tinted black
it wasn't enough for what she saw.

The receptionist screamed
and the doctors all panicked
as the girl booted and banged
each frame to the ground.

And then she stopped
as the second to last pair
were mangled
and distressed.

She had see
and now had seen
and now there was nothing
to help her now.

Not glass
or knife
could bring the world
back to focus.

-Matthew Koutzun

To the Feeler;

To the Feeler;

I've done what you're doing
and there's no need to fret
we've all confused feeling before.

You've been in one place so long
that coming out
you're going to experience a lot more.

I've had my ole' misery love
and I've had the taste of it true.

And with both of those
of the one I would choose
it's a bit of both
taking the best of one
and the longing of the other.


You've told me before you don't understand feelings
but look at you now,
ever the feeler,
you're the expert now
feeling the worst in yourself
and needing to find it in others
so you'll know you're not alone.

Look, he is sad like me,
he must be my soulmate.
The only people who understand me
are the ones with crushing despair.
Pity me and them,
we'll band together and throw a party
where we all cry
and spout deep ideas
for shallow people
confusing metaphors
and laughing at those who we think are beneath us
because they're positive.


So be it,
I can say we've all been there
but there is an after
and when you're there
I may be waiting-
but probably not,
because I'm on top of a world
and it may be my own
but it's happy
and content
and good things do happen
and people do treat me well
even though I may dwell at times on how they don't.


So take your age and fuck yourself
because you hold it like a lighted spire
to hold over others indefinitely
even though you know the torch is always passed to the youth.


Are you happy at my frustration?
Of my blowup?
Of my breakthrough?
Of a leaving you?
I bet not,
but I bet it'll be something you can
joyously
add to the bonfire "sadness" inside you.


Before the "feelings"
I rattled you
insulted you
insinuated about you
embarrassed you
and teased you
and was a lousy pig.
To see if I was like the other loves who destroyed you
if I'd be let into your heart
and the wondrously cruel thing
is I've never seen you more sexually charged.

You want to be hurt
and you don't want nice things
and you don't want to be helped
or you'd help yourself.

I can't help you-
I tried
I don't want to anymore
no wonder people want to leave you
and only hang on if they're on the guest list
for your pity party and misguided help.

Is this feeling enough for you?
Is it firm enough for you?
Is it everything you wanted and more?
Light a match and blow it out
or better yet
set yourself on fire
when you have nothing else to burn
because it's gonna be a cold night in Alaska
when the matadors call the bulls
and the horns spear and trumpet
for a new
glorious
and amazing day to come.

But forget all that-
it'll only be dark for you
and you can stare at your wall for three hours
before finding you have any self worth.

Congrats-
put on a party hat
and sleep.

-Matthew Koutzun

To the Enforcer;

To the Enforcer;

Oh, you dirty dog you.
I saw you eye me up on the way in
and don't think I didn't feel
the strings of longing you attached to me
snip
and snap back at you
as I severed them-
shutting with car door scissors.

After the Feeler had left
you showed your true colours
the ones you'd been showing with your eyes
not your touching feel.

I know you sir,
and I've played the game
but that's not to say I didn't have a good time
taking a round with you tonight.

Because Mr. Enforcer
with tease and cute torture
you touched and tried to force me to feel
and you tried to help me discover
what I already know
and seeing I knew you thought you could bust on through
without having a key to the door.

But Mr. Enforcer
as the doors one key holder
I can say you're attempts
were bold and were brave
but as I said to you both
in a letter before
you're confusing the touch
with the gain.

-Matthew Koutzun

To the Enforcer and the Feeler;

To the Enforcer and the Feeler;

There is an interesting way of feeling feeling
you may not have discovered yet.
You touch and caress but you missing some point.
Your idea to invoke a feeling on another when there may be be none
seems wrong to me-

But you're adamant you feel something.
and are laughing because you think I feel none-

because rather then get caught up in what you're trying to force upon me
I'm content in having my own.

You feel feeling has to be antagonistic
and the way you try now to manipulate what I'm feeling inside
is bordering on a battle
but why would I get frustrated and blow up at you?
Because that would mean a breakthrough in your eyes
someone feeling something other than what they just may be
just because it's negative.

I wonder how you're world is now
and how dark it really is
and if you really don't believe that one can be content
or live without strife for one part of life or a moment
and I feel something.

-Matthew Koutzun

Loving the Deep End

Loving the Deep End

Swimming in my trunks
they stick and suction to my legs
as I'm six.

A memory of the few I have
from that time
when I was six.

Feirmont Springs.
Hot though they were we stayed at the hotel pool
coolly swimming in the sun.

We'd sit in the grass
and eat fries
discussing how best to put the ketchup:

on the fries or on the side?

Here I had cotton candy ice cream
tasting nothing like it
but only of sugar and syrup.

But still I got and get it every year I go
even though I'm lactose intolerant now;
how age will deny you.

But at the pool in my swimming trunks
too long
and me jumping in the deep end to swim.

Doggy paddle none other.

My mom annoyed with me
trying to relax
I hanging onto her neck making her drown.

She would pull me off
and swim further and further
as I tried to swim and grab a hold.

But I would tire in the middle
and she would say not to be in the deep end
if I could not swim alone.

My head would depart under the water.

Her knees would bob me back up
and then she would assist me to the shore
and not long after I would do it again.

Looking back I don't know why
I kept going back
to drown and swim to reach her.

All I know now
is I swim the deep end alone
and I'll be here long after.

-Matthew Koutzun

Between Crossed Legs -or- Let me be a Sexist one more time

Between Crossed Legs
-or-
Let me be a Sexist one more time

Two pink lips
two inviting pink lips
parting the flesh sea
pearl oysters
and honey parade
speaking to me
horizontally
as we dance
oh we'll waltz
and jig the pieces
from your trees
picking such sweet fruit
from the other lips
that speak other sweet things
and some that are rotten naughty.

-Matthew Koutzun

The Meaning of Matthew

The Meaning of Matthew

So, I have something to tell you all.
This whole not hiding thing:
amazing.
It's like wrapping up something and opening it
except there is no surprise
or wrapping paper
just the gift
as it is
willing to see it as it is
and still be happy
that it is what it is.
I love my name.

-Matthew Koutzun


PS. this poem sounds like it's very self indulgent, but it's actually very freeing. If you don't know the meaning of the name Matthew look it up. Maybe you'll understand then.